


Another Stupid High School Love Story

by Beewachan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU where they’re all in high school in fucking California because HOMECOMING, Atsumu doesn’t know what love is, Every cliche in the goddamn book, I might change the title later I’m lacking in creativity at the moment, Keiji is a bad boy™, Keiji likes to keep track of time, M/M, There’s gonna be some loveless straight shit at first be forewarned, and I write some shitty fucking stuff, and football and American shit, this has to be one of the worst works I’ve ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: A high school romance containing all the quintessential elements in your typical Wattpad story, starring Akaashi Keiji and Miya Atsumu as themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crocustongues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/gifts).



> this one’s for u because ur probably gonna be the only person reading this shittyass wattpad style romance
> 
> PLEASE NOTE, IF YOU DON’T LIVE IN THE USA OR YOUR SCHOOL DOESNT/DIDNT MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF HOMECOMING, UR GONNA WANNA READ THIS BEFORE U CONTINUE: 
> 
> **Homecoming:** This is an event to celebrate the returning to **high school** or college, marked by a football game — the homecoming game.  
>  \- we have homecoming week and are given a theme for each day  
> \- for example, on day one, the theme could be “countries,” and students will dress up as any country they choose whether it be prancing around with a flag on their backs or simply dressing in a country’s national colors.  
> \- there will typically be a class colors themed day, usually on Friday, the day of the homecoming game  
> \- each student of the four classes (freshmen, sophomores, juniors, seniors) will wear 1 of four school colors that is designated to their specific class  
> \- the powderpuff game is when a group of girls (who don’t necessarily know how to play football) play against each other. juniors vs. seniors; boys (who aren’t football players as they’re not allowed to participate) are cheerleaders for this game and also perform at the pep rally. this is typically on Monday or any day before the homecoming football game.  
> \- we have a pep rally the day of the homecoming game filled with screaming and dancing and competing over which class has the most spirit 
> 
>  
> 
>  **SGA:** Student Government Association  
>  \- for each class, there is a representative or president, treasurer, secretary, Vice President, and sometimes editor, historian, parliamentarian, seargent at arms, you name it.  
> \- this is a class that students can take as well as an after school activity, usually filled with “popular” students  
> \- they usually play a major, major part in decorating the school for homecoming week. they will decorate it according to the theme decided by whoever is running homecoming court, who organize the dance itself.  
> \- often, we trace images from the internet, paint them, and hang them up around the hallways (not blocking lockers and doors of course), and we completely cover the walls with these paintings.  
> \- we also cover the walls with posters and colored paper (big ass paper not like 8.5x11 lol) because sometimes we don’t finish tracing and painting everything on time  
> \- and we stuff colored paper in the lights so it looks like the lights r green or pink and shit it’s cool  
> \- the last three bullets r what the kids are doing in the SGA room in this fic  
> \- SGA starts painting for homecoming during the summer sometimes to avoid running out of time  
> \- SGA also does other things like spreading positivity by writing nice notes in the bathroom mirror like u r beautiful or leaving cute notes in peoples lockers

“Would anyone like to pass back last week’s scantrons?”

Of course Atsumu was the first to raise his hand  _and_ get out of his chair without getting confirmation from the teacher that yes, he could pass back the scantrons.

“Don’t want anyone to know you failed?” Keiji asked as Atsumu handed him his scantron.

“Keiji, can you do me a favor? Never speak to me again.” There was a tingling sensation Keiji always got in his chest whenever Atsumu said his name.

It made him want to grab Atsumu by the collar of that stupid, preppy Vineyard Vines sweatshirt and push him against the wall as he took a taste of Atsumu’s lips. It was that kind of tingling.

Atsumu, on the other hand felt a different kind of tingling. The feeling that Keiji gave him was more like a “why’d you have to be born” kind of feeling. Like a fiery rage in his chest that made him roll his eyes to the back of his head or want to slit his own throat whenever Keiji spoke.

“It’s so fucking cold in here,” Atsumu said when he returned to his seat, right under the vent, and coincidentally, right next to Keiji.

Senior year wasn’t going to be his year, Atsumu was convinced. He sat next to Keiji in three of six classes; they only had three classes together. And of course, in these classes, there was partner work.

So, Keiji slid their desks together (because he knew Atsumu wouldn’t), and while some other kid passed back their most recent test’s questions in both versions, they looked on their answer sheets to see which questions they got wrong, so they could solve them. Together.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to do 30? You got it right,” Atsumu growled as he shivered, just a little.

“We have different versions, Atsumu. Your 30 is my 27, and my 27 is incorrect.”

“You could at least try to figure it out.”

“Product rule after the first derivative.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain in a second.” Keiji grabbed one of Atsumu’s clothed wrists after getting tired of watching him shiver. “Why are you wearing such a thin sweatshirt when you know we have this cold ass class?” Keiji stripped off his black moto jacket. 

“I’m not wearing that.”

Keiji rolled his eyes, and Atsumu scoffed in return as Keiji draped the jacket over Atsumu’s shoulders.

“You’re welcome.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to roll his eyes. “Just show me how to do 30.”

They finished going over tests earlier than the other kids because, well, that was the only problem they got wrong. Normally, they’d pretend like each other didn’t exist when they were done going over tests, like they did their junior year.

But today was a little different. Atsumu wanted to know _things_. “You’re not running for class president again, are you? You were a horrible president last year. You’re not going to get re-elected.”

“Vice-president,” Keiji said.

Atsumu bit his lip in favor of saying, “That’s not much better.”

“The vice-president never does anything, anyway,” Keiji added for justification.

“You haven’t been coming to football practice.”

“Practice is boring.”

“Coach is gonna bench you,” Atsumu said in that are-you-stupid but not quite condescending kind of tone.

“Don’t really care,” Keiji shrugged as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. His midriff was exposed; Atsumu pretended not to notice.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

“Guess so.” Keiji just had to go and run his fingers through his hair and look stupidly attractive and make Atsumu hate him for being so gorgeous and so irritating. “What are you running for?”

“Treasurer.”

“Have you put up your posters yet?”

“They’re all over the school. Are you blind?”

“I don’t usually look at the posters. Who’s running for President?”

“Kenjirou. Nobody’s running against him because they know they’ll lose.”

“Mai is running for parliamentarian again?” Keiji asked.

“Yeah, she is.”

“Hope she wins.”

“Obviously she will,” Atsumu states, with the condescending tone this time.

Keiji’s eyes rolled towards Atsumu without making direct eye contact. “You look kind of ho——” 

The bell rang. Atsumu was quick to throw Keiji’s jacket (the jacket that Keiji thought he looked really hot in) at his face because God forbid anyone outside of Calculus see Atsumu in it. They could think he and Keiji were friends, or worse, they could think they were _good_ friends.

 

 

 

______________

 

 

“Hey, Mai,” Keiji said to his locker buddy, also known as Atsumu’s girlfriend of two and a half years. They were what we call “high school sweethearts.”

Anyone who knew Atsumu well (Keiji and Osamu, his brother) knew that their relationship was wholly and utterly superficial. They were both popular, in student government, captain of the cheer and football teams, and most important of all, they were beautiful. It only seemed logical that they date.

Anyone who knew Mai well (Keiji, Kenji and a few underclassmen) knew that Kenji was completely and utterly smitten with Mai, and they’ve had feelings for each other since the seventh grade.

“Hey, Keiji,” Mai answered with a smile, much to Atsumu’s displeasure. He grabbed her books and slammed her locker shut for her. It was a sort of, “Don’t talk to my girlfriend” message. A message Keiji chose to ignore.

He sat next to Mai in AP European history, so it was hard to ignore Atsumu’s message. Who was Keiji going to whisper his snarky side comments to if not Mai?

She cracked 17 smiles that period; it was a new record. Project “Steal Atsumu’s girlfriend to make Atsumu single, and then dump his girlfriend and date Atsumu” was going rather well, Keiji thought. He was pleased with himself.

 

 

 

______________

 

 

“My mom already thinks I won. Vote Atsumu for treasurer!” An obnoxiously loud yellow poster in the theater hallway commanded.

Keiji would listen, not because he saw the poster, but because he always voted for Atsumu. He even voted for him last year, when they were competing for class president. Keiji didn’t want the position, anyway; he just wanted to spend time with Atsumu doing student government.

But Atsumu lost.

_“Where’s Atsumu?” Keiji said after scanning the SGA room, his first time walking in after the election._

_“He’s at football, so he’s not doing SGA after school anymore.”_

_“Come again?” Keiji glared at the poor freshman._

_“He said he wanted to focus on football since he didn’t get an officer position. We have plenty of student volunteers, anyway.”_

_“So, you’re telling me I did all of this for nothing?” Keiji asked._

_“I mean, you’re the president of your class; I wouldn’t say you did it all for nothing,” the freshman shrugged._

_“Hey, kid, do you have an officer position?”_

_“Ah, no,” the boy sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “I lost.”_

_Keiji looked around the room and behind him, making sure that he and the younger boy were the only ones there. “I’ll log in twice the volunteer hours for you if you do all of my work.”_

_“Keiji, I don’t think that’s allowed.”_

_“Do I look like someone who cares about what’s allowed?” Keiji’s eyebrows narrowed as he glared._

_“Uh, okay.”_

Maybe Keiji was a horrible junior-class president. Whatever. He would stop thinking about it in favor of reading the cast list for the first play before homecoming, Almost, _Maine_.

Pete, Lendall, Phil: Keiji Akaashi.  
Ginette, Gayle, Marci: Mai Nametsu.

Project “Steal Atsumu’s girlfriend…” was officially rolling. Okay, not quite yet because rehearsal wasn’t until next Friday, but at least it was confirmed.

For now, Keiji would go back to the SGA room and help make decorations for homecoming, because Atsumu didn’t have football practice on Mondays, and he would be there. Therefore, Keiji would be there.

Mai had cheerleading on Mondays, so Keiji would be there while Atsumu was without his beard. So, when he got to room 4-205, Keiji was delighted to see Atsumu, alone, painting someone else’s tracings while Kenjirou and Osamu were working on tracing more Disney cartoons.

“Hey, Atsumu,” Keiji greeted.

“If you take another step near me, I won’t hesitate to flick this black paint all over that grey sweatshirt of yours,” Atsumu said as he raised his wet-with-paint paintbrush.

Keiji paid no mind and grabbed a paintbrush before sitting beside Atsumu, painting a clown. “Why are we doing a clown?”

“Why are you here?” Atsumu asked instead answering.

At the same time, Kenjirou interjected from across the room, “Because, the theme is home, and _It_ reminds us of home!” 

“And how do disney cartoons remind us of home?” Keiji further inquired.

“It’s a thing. Look it up, Keiji!” Kenjirou demanded. He would probably make a good class president.

“Why don’t we draw things relating to San Francisco? The shape of the city? The Golden Gate Bridge? Half the student body isn’t from here. Can we do other countries and cities, too?”

“We are! They’re working on it in the room next door!”

“Alright,” Keiji finally stopped bothering Kenjirou and turned his attention to Atsumu instead. “You haven’t flicked me with paint yet.”

“Keiji.” Atsumu stopped painting.

“Hmm?”

“Could you go somewhere else? Like, anywhere but here?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

Painting together was awkward. They both tried to color the same part red at the same time, and their brushes clashed into each other, creating a not-so-pretty splatter of red trailing into a section of the poster that was supposed to be white.

“Good job, Keiji,” sarcasm poured out from Atsumu’s mouth.

“Just wait for it to dry and cover it up with white paint,” Keiji said.

“There’s paint in your hair.”

“What?”

“There’s paint in your hair,” Atsumu repeated, slowly this time, pointing to a blot of red among black.

“I’ll be back,” Keiji said with a sigh as he left for the bathroom. He wasn’t coming back.

 

 

 

______________

 

 

“Mai, I’m sorry, but could you repeat that again?”

“I’m not just playing Ginette. I’m also playing Gayle, and I have to kiss another guy. Okay?” It was as if all the chatter in the cafetería had stopped. Atsumu heard nothing, nothing at all. He knew what was coming next.

He knew Keiji would have to be “another guy” because it’s fucking Keiji, and Keiji’s in theater, and Keiji liked ruining Atsumu’s life; Atsumu was convinced.

He clenched his fist under the gum-covered side of the cafeteria table. “Who are you kissing.”

“Keiji.”

Perfect. “Can I see your script?”

“Yeah,” Mai handed him the play, on the page of the kiss scene.

Atsumu read “Getting it Back,” and pointed to the interlogue immediately after it, “What the hell? How is he going to play two different guys in two scenes in a row?”

“They’ll draw the curtains back and change him really quick.”

Atsumu had nothing to say anymore except, “I hate Keiji so much.”

“I thought you guys were good friends?” Oh, god. Crazy how his own girlfriend could betray him like so.

“No, we were never friends,” Atsumu sighed.

“How come? Keiji’s a really nice guy.” Mai nudged Atsumu. “You should try being friends with him.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Please! He’s my costar, so you’re probably going to see me with him a lot more, and it’d make me really happy if you guys got along!”

Atsumu was going to scream, but no, he couldn’t. He was in public. He kissed Mai instead. Why? Because Keiji was walking by, and he tried to waved to Atsumu and Mai, and Atsumu was _not_ letting her answer him.

But that didn’t work. Keiji sat down right across from them.

“How are you guys?”

“Great!” Mai smiled, pushing Atsumu off of her, “How are you, Keiji?”

“I’m well,” Keiji smiled back at her, and it looked so _fake_. “Were you guys invited to Yuuji’s get together?”

Atsumu went pale momentarily. Was there a party he wasn’t invited to? He was always invited, this must be a mistake. Keiji and Mai were happily conversing, too; that had to be a mistake. Keiji wasn’t a very good talk, usually.

Maybe Mai preferred guys who talked less; maybe Atsumu had to stop talking. If he did that, Keiji wouldn’t be able to take her from him, an—

“Yoooo,” Yuuji walked up to their table with little flyers and handed one to Atsumu and Mai. “Be there?”

“Totally!” Mai grinned at him, and Atsumu was fucking done. Mai was so sweet, but it was getting kind of annoying being with her and a bunch of other guys at once, and it wasn’t really a jealousy thing because they weren’t in love, and everyone knew that, but it was that everyone knew that. 

Being around the everyone that knew that was annoying. It was constant pressure to break up, but who else would they go on group dates with and to parties with and to dances with and get elected for homecoming and prom king and queen with?

Yuuji had been sitting next to Keiji, conversing with Mai for a little while now when he asked, “Atsumu, you’ve been really quiet, dude, you good?”

“Great. I’m great.”

“Alright, babe, you better be tomorrow night because it’s gonna be lit, and a party isn’t a party if you’re not there.”

It was Keiji’s turn to get jealous. Of course Yuuji could call Atsumu “babe,” but if Keiji tried? He’d get beheaded. By Atsumu. Mai didn’t give a shit.

 

 

 

______________

 

 

A cloud of smoke escaped Yuuji’s lips as Keiji walked through the front door.

“Sup,” Kenji greeted, and Keiji did the “sup nod” in exchange.

“Where’s Atsumu?”

“How come you always wanna be with Atsumu, man?” Yuuji asked. “You got a crush?” He winked.

“He’s high; ignore him. Atsumu’s in the back on a phone call or something,” Kenjirou answered Keiji.

“He has a crush,” Keiji heard Yuuji attempt to whisper as he opened the back door.

Atsumu didn’t react to the sound of the door clicking shut; he stayed sitting quietly and thoughtfully on one of Yuuji’s lawn chairs that creaked whenever he moved even the slightest bit.

Keiji pulled another one from against the house to the grass, in front of Atsumu. “Did Mai tell you?” Keiji figured that would get Atsumu’s attention more than a simple “Hey.”

It did. Atsumu even went as far as to make eye contact with Keiji. “About what?”

“About the play.”

“You mean about the kiss scene? It’s just acting; it doesn’t mean anything,” Atsumu said, and it sounded more like he was convincing himself than Keiji.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you knew. You know, so you don’t go berserk when you come to the play or walk into rehearsal and watch me kiss your girlfriend,” Keiji’s voice got a little quieter with the last two words.

“If being in the play makes Mai happy, it doesn’t bother me,” Atsumu said, again trying to convince himself of his own words.

“I wish it were you.”

“What?”

“I wish that you were the person I had t——”

The sound of the door swinging open and Atsumu’s lawn chair creaking as he jumped interrupted Keiji. “Get back inside, ladies, it’s gonna rain!” Kenji ordered.

Because Keiji could never get across anything with 0.5 ounces of semblance to a confession to Atsumu without being interrupted.

Of course not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything about this was ridiculous, and I can’t believe you’ve made it this far. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

The night went downhill from there. It went on with everyone but Kenjirou taking a hit from the same bong, which was totally unsanitary, Keiji could agree with Kenjirou, but the list of things Keiji would do to maintain his reputation wasn’t limited.

Kenji dropped 20,000,000 hints that he was in love with Mai while Atsumu’s arm was snaked around her waist, Kenjirou left with Osamu after 20 minutes, probably (Keiji lost track of time), and Yuuji was sputtering about how much “I love getting high with you guys; you’re the best!”

And Keiji sat there for no reason other than because he was expected to be there. He philosophized on whether putting his lips into the glass counted as an indirect kiss with Atsumu or whether it didn’t count because there were totally eight other people there who totally took a hit, too.

And Keiji started pondering whether or not Atsumu was really gay and whether or not Mai was really his beard, or maybe they were actually in love, and Keiji had had it wrong all along.

And Keiji started to think that they were when they made out right next to him until they had to stop because Atsumu was too high to remember to breathe. Idiot.

He pulled up his wrist to check the time (and by check the time, I mean check to see if he had stayed at the “getty” long enough and could leave without getting that “but you’ve been here for, like, two minutes!” bullshit), but all he saw was a jumble of lines and longer lines in a misshapen circle.

“Keiji, bro, you look super distraught,” Yuuji said, sitting to Keiji’s left.

“What time is it?”

“Two thirty-two,” Yuuji answered.

Keiji had been there far longer than he needed to, and he had inhaled far more fumes of the devil’s cabbage than he intended to, and he should have left earlier. He really should have.

“I should go.”

“Dude, you’re not driving right now,” Yuuji grabbed Keiji’s wrist just as he tried to get up.

Keiji screamed only internally when he realized Yuuji was probably right that driving wasn’t the best decision at that moment, but he really didn’t know if he could stand staying the night with these doofuses.

He pulled Yuuji in and tried his best to whisper (Keiji doesn't know how to whisper, it’s barely hushed talking that sounds just like normal talking, but more urgent). “I really hate being around them when they’re making out, and I have to get the fuck out of here,” he ‘whispered.’

Of the two people who were still at the “getty” aside from Keiji himself and the couple, only one of them agreed that, “Yeah, they’re _kind of_ insufferable.” Of course Yuuji didn’t care; otherwise he wouldn’t let them get so graphic on his couch.

 

______________

 

 

It was roughly 36 hours after the “getty” that Keiji saw Atsumu again.

“Hi.” Keiji waved down at Atsumu from his apartment’s fire escape, just a floor higher. It was a bit dangerous to be leaning over the railing so much, a bit stupid, even, but Keiji didn’t care.

He didn’t care either when Atsumu rolled and shut his eyes in disbelief despite knowing that Keiji had lived above him since seventh grade.

“What are you doing outside so late?” Keiji asked.

To which, Atsumu replied, “What’re _you_ doing outside so late?”

“Wondering what the sky would look like without light pollution.” It was things like this that Keiji said that made Atsumu hate him so much.

“Go do your homework,” Atsumu said in hopes that maybe Keiji would leave.

Of course Keiji wouldn’t leave; he would climb down the fire escape ladder and give Atsumu a proper greeting.

“I’m leaving,” Atsumu said without any real intention to crawl back into his window.

“How’s it going?” Finding a seat on the ladder, Keiji smiled at Atsumu, and fake or not, it was kind of cute.

“I mean, you’re here, so not very good.”

“That’s not very nice, Atsumu,” Keiji frowned.

“You see, the thing is: I don’t really care.” It was things like these that Atsumu said that made Keiji wonder why he ever liked him in the first place.

There was a moment of silence in respect for the subtle cracking of Keiji’s heart.

“Atsumu.”

“What?”

“Do you like Mai?”

“No, she’s my girlfriend because I fucking hate her.”

“I meant really like her — or love her,” Keiji sighed because Atsumu didn’t understand the first time, but he probably should have phrased his question better.

With a scoff, Atsumu announced, “I’m leaving.”

Keiji decided it was best to not try to stop him.

 

______________

 

 

Today, like most days, Keiji and Atsumu had finished their work early. Today, unlike most days (as of late), Atsumu didn’t completely ignore Keiji afterward.

“You never answered my question last night, you know,” Keiji said, and it was a stretch, and he knew it was a stretch because Atsumu didn’t answer _for a reason_.

“Yes.”

Was that a ‘Yes, I like her’ or a ‘Yes, I know’?

“Yes, what?” Keiji asked.

“Yes, I never answered your question.”

Atsumu still hadn’t pulled his desk back to its original row, away from Keiji’s.

“Are you going to?” Keiji leaned closer to Atsumu, just a tad.

“Probably not.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because I have to think about it.”

“That isn’t something you should have to think about.” Keiji didn’t mean to let that slip out.

Atsumu widened the gap between them as he slipped out of his desk. “It is.”

 

______________

 

 

Atsumu wanted to wait until he and Keiji were alone again to bring up the subject of his feelings for Mai. This unfortunately meant waiting until it was dark out and hoping that by chance Keiji was out on the fire escape again.

Of course, he decided not to be there that evening.

So, the next morning, Atsumu found Keiji at his locker and made it clear where he needed Keiji to be at 8:00 p.m.

 

______________

 

 

The hairs of Keiji’s arms stood up immediately upon exposure to the cool September air. Atsumu was already sitting on his window sill, feet resting on the metal bars of the fire escape.

Keiji gave Atsumu his standard greeting as he climbed down the ladder while Atsumu resisted the urge to give Keiji his standard “go fuck yourself.”

“What did you want to talk about?” Keiji rubbed his arms for warmth.

“Where’s your jacket? You can’t lecture me about inappropriate clothing choices and then wear some thin white shirt in the cold,” Atsumu stalled.

“It’s not that cold.”

“It’s cold enough.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” Keiji was ready to sigh with disappointment.

Atsumu was ready to say, “Yes,” and pretend like this never happened, like the night before never happened.

“No.”

“Then what?”

Atsumu paused for a minute to debate whether it was too late to leave or not. “Why’d you wanna know if I like her?”

Keiji could have lied. He could have said, “No reason,” “Just curious,” or some other bullshit answer along those lines, but no, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “I thought you were gay.”

Atsumu, too, blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Bye.” Truly, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to give Keiji a well thought-out response, but it was that he didn’t know how to respond.

So, he climbed back inside through his window, like he did the night before, with the same scowl on his face.

“Not that I care, but what’s wrong?” Osamu asked monotonously as soon as Atsumu closed the window behind him and settled in their shared bedroom.

“He who must not be named irritates me,” Atsumu sighed.

“Do you mean Keiji? You talk about him a lot.”

“I thought I said not to name him,” Atsumu glared at his brother.

“Why does he irritate you?”

“Whenever he breathes, it emotionally pains me.”

“But why does it emotionally pain you?”

One overly-long glare later, Atsumu answered, “Because he asks stupid questions, and he doesn’t come to practice, and he get the same score as me on tests while only studying for half the time, and I lost to him by one vote last year, and he was so terrible at being president, and he’s really attractive, and he’s gonna be kissing my girlfriend soon, and it’s fucking annoying.”

“Doesn't it feel better to let it all out?”

“No, not really,” Atsumu let out another exasperated sigh. Osamu looked at him expectantly. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

 

______________

 

 

Keiji, unusually peaceful, was painting a red balloon when Mai approached. “Hey, Keiji,” she spoke, cheerful as ever.

“Hey, Mai.” He gave her the faintest of smiles.

“Mind if I join you?” She held up a paint brush.

“Not at all.”

After five minutes of stroking flops of red paint against flimsy paper and debating whether or not to talk to Keiji, Mai decided to open up.

“Atsumu’s been acting weird lately.”

“He’s always weird,” Keiji said, inadvertently insulting Atsumu. He really had to work on his filter.

“Yeah, but, like, weirder than he normally is,” Mai frowned.

“Probably because he just realized he doesn’t actually love you,” Keiji wanted to say, but he didn’t. That would have been mean. “I wonder why,” Keiji shrugged thoughtfully.

 

______________

 

 

“I love you,” Atsumu pushed a lock of hair behind Mai’s ear.

There was a fine line between telling someone you loved them and genuinely loving them. It was a line that Atsumu had yet to cross.

“I love you, too, Atsumu,” she said, and Atsumu wondered if she hadn’t crossed the line yet, either. “I had a great time tonight.”

Dinner and a movie; it wasn’t anything special to Atsumu, nothing they hadn’t done a million times beforehand. “Me, too.” And because she had expected him to, he kissed her, numbly and dispassionately.

She smiled weakly after their two-second kiss was over. “Good night, Atsumu.”

“Good night, Mai.”

 

______________

 

 

Ryuunosuke Tanaka was having a party this Friday, and that meant Atsumu would have to go, and that meant Atsumu would have to see Keiji because Keiji had to go, too. They hadn’t spoken to each other much after the night on the fire escape, and going days without conversing wasn’t unusual for them, but it felt different this time.

As much as Atsumu hated to admit it, Osamu was right. He was talking about Keiji a lot lately; he was _thinking_ about Keiji a lot lately.

And, boy, was it annoying.

Atsumu held Mai’s hand, their fingers laced together, as he opened Ryuu’s front door for her. Booming music drowned out Atsumu’s thoughts of “what if her hand was Keiji’s instead,” and for that, Atsumu was thankful.

It was getting tiring. Going to parties, pretending he liked the people hosting them, pretending he was friends with everyone, pretending to be in love, pretending to enjoy himself, it was getting tiring.

Atsumu and Mai would walk through the house together, greet everyone that they felt like they had to greet, make sure not to go anywhere alone together, pretend to drink (only outside) and toss it into the grass when the others aren’t looking, sometimes actually drink to make it easier to pretend that they were having fun.

“Ryuu!” Mai smiled as she hugged him, then turned to Amanai, Ryuu’s girlfriend, and hugged her with equal excitement.

Atsumu did the same.

They did this maybe five more times (they lost count) before Ryuu decided to pull them into a game of spin the bottle because that’s what teenagers do at parties apparently.

And as it is Murphy’s Law, Keiji was there, sitting in the circle of other teenagers with the bottle in the center.

And when it was Atsumu’s turn, the bottle had ill-fatedly pointed to Keiji. Because that’s how life fucking works.

Atsumu motioned to adjust the bottle’s position ever-so slightly, but before he could, Ryuu and the others were already egging Keiji on, telling him to “kiss him already” since, per Yuuji, rumor had it that Atsumu and Keiji were in love.

Great.

“We aren’t kissing,” Atsumu stated firmly. Keiji refrained from commenting.

“Dude, you have to. It’s the rules,” Kenji said, and in that moment Atsumu decided that they were no longer friends.

“Rules are made to be broken.”

“They aren’t, but there’s an alternate rule,” Kenjirou said as he stared down at his phone’s screen, the rules pulled up on it. “There’s a variation of spin the bottle in which the spinner gets to ask whomever the bottle landed on a personal, intimate question.”

Subversive and intransigent, Atsumu replied, “Personal and intimate questions are meant to be asked in personal and intimate settings, not at parties with thirty other hammered teenagers in the room. If you don’t mind, I’ll be saving that personal question for a later date.”

It took a few more minutes of arguing until they decided to yield, and when it was finally Keiji’s turn to spin, the bottle landed on, you guessed it, Atsumu.

Of course it landed on Atsumu.

Keiji attempted to smile to hide a much-more-appropriate grimace. Without waiting to hear Atsumu’s response, or anyone else’s for that matter, Keiji got off of the couch, walked over to Atsumu, and planted a chaste kiss on his left cheek.

They hadn’t said a word to each other the entire night, and they didn’t after the cheek-peck either, but the flush spreading across Atsumu had said more than enough.

 

______________

 

 

Of course, Keiji and Atsumu couldn’t talk in school again after last Friday night. That would look _bad_.

So, they didn’t. They sat, doing partner work in calculus individually, with their desks smushed together.

They bumped wrists a few times. Keiji even dared to write on Atsumu’s paper and correct his work, but there was a lack of verbal communication.

Until Atsumu couldn’t handle the awkward silence any longer. “I hate you,” he said.

“I know,” Keiji answered; it was his typical response, but things didn’t feel quite right.

Sometimes Atsumu wondered why Keiji never said, “I hate you, too, you stupid cunt,” or something like that, anyway, but he never asked.

He wouldn’t ask.

 

______________

 

 

Lately, Atsumu had become more self-aware — more self-aware that he was thinking about Keiji, to be specific. That he was wondering if Keiji would be out on the fire escape at the same time as he was. That he was hoping Keiji would be out on the fire escape at the same time as he was.

This sudden self-awareness filled him with self-loathing as he stepped out of his bedroom window, one leg at a time, one boat shoe landing on meshed metal at a time.

The sounds of soles colliding with the metal and of the window shutting let Keiji know he wasn’t alone out there. Without bothering to say, ‘Hello,’ Keiji climbed down the ladder to meet Atsumu, face-to-face.

Atsumu felt something that he recognized as either excitement or anxiousness as he asked, “What do you want?”

“To apologize.”

Atsumu replied with a visibly shaken stare and an “Excuse me?” Keiji had never apologized before.

“For kissing you, at Ryuunosuke’s party and without your permission.” Of course Keiji would apologize for something so minuscule.

“It doesn’t matter; it was just a stupid game.”

“Yeah, but I still violated your personal space, and stupid game or not, that’s not okay.”

“You violate my personal space on a dail— actually, if you’re so sorry, then why’d you do it?” Atsumu looked not upset but bored.

“I thought it would be easier than fighting about it,” Keiji frowned before adding, “again,” and he took the liberty of sitting down, back against Atsumu’s wall.

Atsumu took the liberty of joining him, resting his head against the concrete and sighing, “You’re real annoying, you know.”

Feeling free enough to do so when alone with Atsumu, Keiji spoke his mind. “It feels kind of like the only person I _don’t_ want to think I’m annoying thinks I’m annoying.”

“Kind of or does?” Atsumu didn’t know exactly why he was still talking to Keiji. It was because he was bored, he tried to tell himself.

Keiji shifted his eyes toward Atsumu. “Does.” Atsumu didn’t look back, keeping his gaze straight-ahead, but it was whatever.

“Why?” Atsumu leaned into the warmth of Keiji’s body, brushing their arms against each other, and Keiji almost gave into temptations and leaned his head on Atsumu’s shoulder, but he thought it was best not to run the risk. 

He did, however, run the risk of leaning over just enough for his clothed knee to touch Atsumu’s. He didn’t answer Atsumu with words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im listening to Taylor swift while writing and i can’t believe im still writing

**Author's Note:**

> Everything about this was ridiculous, and I can’t believe you’ve made it this far. Thank you for reading!


End file.
